Eftirsjá
by lugiamew1
Summary: Iceland has fallen to another ash-related illness and argues in his thoughts, regretting all the times he's cursed his older brother. There must be some way to undo all the infernal separation. New chapter coming soon, lots of brotherly fluff.
1. Eftirsjá

Regret. That was all on young Emil's mind. He spent a scarce amount of time with his brother as it was, and the recent volcanic eruption put a significant increase in the already deep distance between the two. His remorseful thoughts corroded his commonly sound consciousness gradually as his condition deteriorated. Emil, lain in bed, was restless in mind yet not in body. The ash lingering in the drab sky above the dull Icelandic harbor made it impossible for boats to port or planes to land; the city was isolated from foreign contact and trade.

* * *

When the eruption befell the western region of the island country, he was in the open, on an innocent walk on a marked path in the mountains near his home. At the foot of the mountain range Emil traveled upon, there was a valley of off-color but charming green grass with a sparkling river running through it. The dirt trail he tread upon had nothing bigger than an average pebble the size of an eye. Reaching the peaks of the mountain range was an easy task from the trail's current elevation.

As he traversed a bridge above a chasm, the wooden bridge began to rock ever so slightly. The Icelander ignored it, thinking it the wind, and continued on to the other side of the bridge. Stepping on the ground, faint tremors prompted Emil to pause and stare. He'd felt these types of shivers before, and they foretold ill events every time. Believing he still had time, he began to turn back on a heel and hurry away. His azure eyes widened in dread when the earth began to shake violently. Straining to look just past the top of the nearest peak, he could see it: Another mountain, molten lava exploding from the pinnacle. The blistering molten rock painted the sky and volcano slope orange, mixed with crimson, and dark ash billowed into the once peaceful skies separately. But the terrifying beauty mattered not to Emil; the booming racket had startled him to his very core.

He tore off now, in a fruitless attempt to outrun the fast-spreading ash which poisoned the clean sky. He already possessed issues in breathing, and would certainly suffer the consequences of a long sprint later, but it was far better than what may happen if he stuck around and simply walked. Another quake in the earth sent the Icelander crumpling to the ground. The ash spewing from the volcano had by now dispersed, tainting the atmosphere with its dark grayness. It began to sprinkle his current location like a vile, black snow. Emil coughed as he struggled to stand, aware of the faint ache in his throat and right arm, which kept him from completely hitting the dirt just before. It was only then he noticed the bits of soot beginning to touch his chestnut-colored jacket. A breath was held, but he had to inhale sometime.

* * *

Now, here Emil was, but a couple of days later, bedridden. His skin was clammy and almost as pale as his simple, white covers. The difference in temperatures drove him mad; his head felt like it was baking as he sweat, yet he often shivered, chilled even under the fleecy comforter. His chest burned when he tried to take a full breath instead of the newer terse breaths. The former was just about impossible anyways, as his throat constantly felt bound. He cursed the ash and volcano quietly after he had another coughing fit. Not even the bird he'd called friend for a thousand years that had nestled up beside his head made him any happier. Otherwise left alone in his home and bed, his thoughts did nothing to console him either. All he could think about was his brother, who lived in an entirely different country across the Atlantic.

He had shunned his older brother and his teasing, especially after outgrowing his childhood. After those happier days, never had Emil truly spoken to him without marching away, embarrassed, nor had he shown much emotion towards his sibling. He couldn't possibly do that. He didn't want to look weak in front of him. The way Emil argued with himself mentally suggested that his thoughts had split into two, and both sides were locked in eternal conflict. One wanted his brother to be present, the other wanted nothing to do with him in fear of being taunted again. _Splendid,_ Emil thought, _I'm bickering with myself over someone I avoid anyways_. He tried to sleep off the irritating memories, the internal argument. But sleep was intermittent in his case, and he had nothing more to turn his attention to than the row that played out in his head, the belligerents only being his split opinions.

_Aren't you a fool? Who looked after you when you were young? Now look at the mess you're in, and you stay in your pathetic bed, curled up like a coward. _A thought berated the other.

_Who needs his help? A nuisance, distraction... What could he possibly do? Besides, if he showed up, I'm willing to bet he'd do nothing but taunt. I'm strong enough to withstand this. _The other retorted sharply.

_Well for one, he could help you with your little problem. You can hardly get up to take your medicine._

_You're impossible. He'd be no help._

_You're being counterproductive. Swallow your pride._

_Quiet yourself and sit back._

_Imbecile._

The following days were no better. No matter what he tried, he couldn't take his thoughts away from the same subject: His older brother. Outside, the skies had begun to clear to the point where boats began to leave and dock in minute numbers; radio contact was available now to external territories, although the weather was still overcast. Despite the ability to be able to now contact help, Emil remained silent.

His muscles were incredibly sore, and he couldn't move without twinging in agony. He didn't want to be weak. He didn't want to look silly. He wanted to be strong. He didn't need help to get through this illness. The latter was a foolish and prideful notion Emil thought to be sensible. Unable to move, unable to speak without coughing, unable to reach his medicine which sat on a small table opposite of his bed, he was now doubtful if he really had any hope. He was unsure if he would ever get the chance now to apologize to his brother. For all the times he spat at him in irritation or even for the insignificant actions of ignoring his phone calls. He spent the night softly crying with the occasional croup into his pillow.

The following day, the Icelander awoke to something touching his cheek. No, patting it. He had to squint to make out the details, grogginess and an ill state hindering coherent sight. No, some_one_ was patting his cheek. Someone with short, blonde hair and blue eyes... Someone speaking with a worried tone, whispering, "Wake up, wake up brother dear, please..." The familiarity tugged at Emil's cloudy memory until the realization struck him in the head like that of a rock launched from a slingshot. Lukas came. Came as soon as the skies cleared. He wanted to shoot up and embrace him, shouting vehemently, repenting for his past acts of supposed maturity and pride, but such was impossible with the strain it would put on his already sore body. Instead, he grinned at him and let a drop or two leak from already glazed eyes. The grin fell to a twitchy scowl.

Lukas remained quiet afterwards as his younger brother began to weep with choked coughs on the side. He only eyed him in bewilderment. He'd become a broken, shattered mess of his former sophisticated and uptight self. Emil, who now croaked out pitiful words of sorrow and begged for forgiveness instead of pleadings for his older brother to stop embarrassing him.

Trying to calm his distraught kin, Lukas gently pressed a finger to Emil's chapped lips to quiet him and rested the other hand on Emil's scarlet cheek, wet from his own bitter tears.

"I'm here, little brother, and I'm not going to leave anytime soon. I will stay until you are well." The words of authoritative reassurance caused the weak grin to return to Emil's tired complexion.

He was weary from the truth that he had kept bottled up inside of himself for all the years he's been alive.

It seemed to have erupted from him like a volcano.


	2. Lækning

Not much time passed. Why, it had only been three days since his elder brother came. Three very long days that Emil spent still remaining in the bed. His body still ached, though much less than before, thankfully. In fact, he was well enough to sit up at least, though trying to walk was still a terrible strife between his will and substantially decreased limit. In the end, the precarious balance would always result in his collapse against a wall. As such, his self-proclaimed caregiver, Lukas, ordered that he remained in the comfort of the sheets. He was always imposing on him like that.

On the fourth day, Emil cracked his eyes open slowly, letting his weakened sight bring the bland room around him to stagnant life. The bedside table with a single minimalistic lamp, a brown, equally simple chair in the corner of the room where window was perched on the wall. The beige curtains were drawn as they were each night before by his brother; he insisted that Emil's needed sleep must not be interrupted by the morning rays of light. His eyes drifted to the simplistic vanity against the wall on the right, and the painting mounted on the right. It was a panoramic photograph of the untamed wilderness in the interior of his island. Before Lukas came, it provided the most comfort besides his dear puffin, despite how little of said comfort he found in the first place.

One thing was most certainly different, however, and that was how calm his thought had become. There were no more internal arguments, split opinions, or frightening torrents of conflicted emotions. All of that had gone like a passing fog. Emil exhaled lowly in relief then. From his relief, his thoughts drifted away in a pool of uncountable memories. He began to recount, particularly, a memory from ages ago, when he was but a child.

* * *

A shrill sneeze echoed through the wooden house. Emil wiped his nose on his sleeve, which already had pre-existing smudges of mucus on it from earlier. The only other sound was the low crackling of the fire that lit the ancient home. Just about to wonder where his older brother was, his younger face brightened as Lukas sauntered into the home carrying some goods. Emil was only a child back then, dressed in woollen clothing to combat how cold he felt as a result of a passing minor illness.

"Big brother!" His words cracked when he tried to utter them in a sing-song tone.

"Lay down, and talking like that won't help your sore throat," Lukas called from the other end of the home, "I'll be over in a moment."

Still with a grin creasing his cheeks, he laid back down on the furs while he questioned Lukas, who approached his area of rest, "What'd you trade for?" He was always so curious about what his sibling did when he didn't have the chance to go with him.

"Necessities and buttermilk, for your cold." Lukas was looming over him by the time he finished speaking, pouring some of the white drink into a carved wooden cup, offering it to his younger kin, who joyfully accepted the cup and took one long swig of it. Lukas only watched as he did.

"I love it! Thank you, Lukas!" He licked the thick line of liquid that stuck to the top of his lip off his face.

Lukas, even back then as a developing adolescent, always kept a nearly eternal expressionless face.

_Emil._

Yet, he allowed himself a small grin to cross his face.

_Snap, snap._

* * *

He heard his name called, and Emil shook his head lightly, blinking twice and returning to the present time.

Lukas withdrew his hand, almost about to snap his fingers again. "Daydreaming?" He inquired. While he waited for his answer, he let blue, liquid medicine flood the small cap from its bottle.

Emil sluggishly propped himself up before he gave a succinct reply. "Yes."

"About what?"

"Nothing in particular."

"Well, that's obviously not true."

"And how do you know?"

"You seemed rather lucid for just daydreaming about nothing."

"It was the past."

His older brother remained silent then, checking the cap for the right amount of medicine. Lukas ordered that Emil open his mouth for it, and without a struggle, swallowed it. People would say that this sort of medicine tasted awful, but he's tasted worse. It's not like taste mattered much to Emil in any way, for he possessed a hardy appetite. Bland things tasted wonderful to him as a child, but other things had changed since then. Like the still deep canyon between him and Lukas despite their closeness all those years ago.

He held a glass of a water in his other hand, and Lukas set it down on the night stand. "Drink it," He firmly told Emil, "You still look rather gaunt. Fluids will help your plight." Afterwards, he affectionately ruffled his hair as he once did always when they were both younger.

"Don't touch my hair." Emil protested with a raspy voice.

"At least you're getting well enough to start getting defensive over your already messy hair. I'm glad." Lukas replied with a bit of tease in his tone and a tiny smirk. Emil was about to retort, but held his tongue, furrowed his brow, and sucked in a cheek, letting himself fall back into the mattress. Lukas hummed in trivial amusement while Emil defeatedly stroked his faithful puffin companion, who cooed softly at the touch.

Satisfied with getting some words out of Emil this morning, he sat in a chair he dragged by the outside of his brother's door days ago to ensure he'd be there if his little brother needed anything. Not to mention, he seemed uncomfortable with being watched all the time like a child. Lukas picked up a book he'd left on the seat the other day and continued to read.

* * *

Two weeks passed, and the days often blended together for Emil, who still had sleepless nights, much to his discomfort and concern. Nevertheless, he became well enough by that time to walk and care to his household duties on his own. Lukas had already used up much of his down-time caring to his brother's needs, and simply had to return to his country to attend to urgent business. But that was fine, for Emil had business of his own to take care of. Before he knew it, he was alone again in his home. Even after all that trouble, was his life really still this monotonous and his bond with his brother really still this weak?


	3. Flug

With purpose filling every step, Emil strode towards the desk where he performed his usual, everyday task of filling out paperwork of all types. Although he avidly visited this spot, he didn't sit himself on the worn seat of the chair. Instead, he frisked through the papers that covered most of the surface of the desk, stacks upon stacks waiting to be sent back or completed. Although they were stacked neatly in their proper piles, Emil was always a little quick to forget that a cleaner desk would be easier to manage.

He smacked a palm to his forehead. Of course, what he was searching for wouldn't be in the sea of papers. Emil recalled where he'd placed his object of interest, and left the desk for the other side of the room lined with filing cabinets and bookshelves that were mostly filled with ledgers of all sorts. Sliding one of the cabinets open, he sifted through the organized folders and eventually drew out the one he looked for. Flipping it open, he skimmed the content, checking for finalized information so he was not to forget.

Emil traveled out of the country on flights- usually for business. It was normal, to attend international conferences in other nations, or for some sort of important event that required his presence. Leisurely trips were less common as he hardly allowed himself time for them, deeming that his work dwarfs the need for an out-of-country break. Emil always kept any sort of trip information in its own folder, for as much as he would hate to admit it, he could be a touch scatterbrained at times and lose track of necessary information.

Quickly, he glanced over at the clock mounted on the wall, then whipped his gaze back at the folder's contents, hurrying all the more. After making sure all papers and needs were accounted for, passports, tickets, the itinerary, and others necessities, he slapped the folder shut and rushed out of his office to the sitting room, where he slipped the folder into one of the larger pockets on his obsidian-colored messenger bag, which was quickly zipped shut.

The weather outside was abhorrible. It was raining and had been all night. The skies were still pitch black, stars hidden by the gloom of the clouds. He hoped the hours-worth of rain would mean it would finish soon. Accordingly, he threw on a waterproof coat over his rather bland taupe turtleneck. An umbrella would be troublesome, so he resorted to simply throwing the coat's hood over his head. Finally, he slung the messenger bag onto his shoulder and extended the handle on the rolling suitcase, grabbing it and making his way for the door. Having said his temporary goodbyes to his precious puffin, Emil left the quaint place he called home.

* * *

Riding the bus was hardly a new thing for Emil. Unless one of his citizens kindly offered him a ride to the airport since they were en route, he always rode the Flybus. Parking was always pricey no matter where you go. Upon arrival, he checked in his larger piece of luggage to the Icelandair agent. Though they were perhaps unsuspecting of his identity, Emil always felt a bit of pride well up inside of him when he watched the people, -his- people go about their business just as proudly. "Bless bless," he told the agent as he briskly weaved through the lively crowd with a tiny grin.

Passing through security and making his way to the gate happened quickly. Before he could organize his thoughts, they were already calling for boarding. Standing in line and submitting his ticket for a brief review by another agent, Emil left the line of people behind and proceeded to cross the gangway into the aircraft.

As he stepped across the empty seats, he removed his coat. Stowing his bag and coat under the seat in front and securing his personage with the seatbelt, he leaned back into the cushions, exhaling deeply. Emil could now finally relax for a while, so enraptured by his own thoughts that he hardly noticed the other people seating next to him in the once unoccupied spaces.

Head comfortably sunken into the headrest, the safety instructions broadcasted throughout the aircraft was but a passing noise in his ear while he turned his head to see the outdoors of the airport begin to pass gradually by. Soon enough, they left the gate behind for the network of runways. Totally inattentive to words, he felt the rumble of the plane crossing the pavement.

They turned and came to a stop. The short stop that foretold imminent ground departure. He had only a small moment to admire the twinkling lights in the dark that marked the runways, turns, one-ways, and more. The plane lurched forward, wing-mounted engines roaring, the rumbling grew stronger whilst they picked up pace like a charging bull. All at once, the rumbling ceased as they tipped up, leaving the surface behind. Even though he'd experienced this feeling countless times before since the invention of the commercial airplane and establishment of his first airports, the breathtaking feeling of flying never truly faded. All of his attention was focused on the lit cities below growing smaller and smaller as they rose above the clouds.

Once the feeling of unbridled wonder had passed, he settled back in to the comfort of the seat after retrieving the complementary pillow. Although he hardly found the pillows any airline provided comforting, he was still fond of the pillows his international carrier provided. The lights in the cabins began to shut off, save for some who kept personal lights on to read a book or continue working. One of his neighbors kept one on to pursue the former, and enough excess light allowed him to read his pillow.

_Bí, bí og blaka,_

_álftirnar kvaka,_

_ég læt sem ég sofi,_

_en samt mun ég vaka._

As if following the phrase, his eyelids began to droop.

_Bíum bíum bamba,_

_börnin litlu ramba_

Sleep began to beckon him to her realm.

_fram um fjallakamba_

_að leita sér bamba._

_-íslensk vögguvísa_

Soon enough, he gave in, still grasping the pillow as he left consciousness.

* * *

Emil awoke soon after. Coherent thought and reasoning returning, he stuffed the pillow behind his back to help with the ache he felt. He stretched his arms and upper body, letting out a small, throaty noise as he did, enough so the stiff feeling left him. Glancing outside, his nap had taken him to dawn. The clouds below became an orange color, and the lower part of the sky became the same, soft orange that created a calming gradient to the darkness that still tinted the atmosphere above. The clouds themselves hid the sun below.

The calmness of the outside betrayed his thoughts. Emil's untainted thoughts before his dreamless nap had now become filled with anxious questions again. Yet, he pushed them to the back of his list of priorities. His questions would be answered later, and now was not the time for it.

Curiosity striking, Emil turned on the interactive screen in front. He decided to check on the route. Disappointed to see this time of solace was slept away and would soon come to an end, he shut it off just as quickly. Complementing his thoughts, the pilot's voice came over the PA, informing the passengers in both Icelandic and English of the imminent arrival and other sorts of information that he honestly hadn't paid attention to. In the distance, just through the clouds, he could see land in the distance. A familiar, nostalgic land.

Emil secured himself once again. The plane's descent could be felt with definitive evidence provided when Emil needed to pop his ears. Civilization could be seen below now as it became larger, leading up all the way to when the aircraft made contact with the ground. They taxied towards the airport, pilot speaking to them again, repeating his Icelandic words in English.

"Once again, thank you for flying with Icelandair, ladies and gentlemen; let us be the first to welcome you to Bergen, Norway. Whether you have reached your final destination or are continuing your journey, we wish you a pleasant stay."

* * *

**A/N:**

The poem can actually be found on Icelandair pillows, no joke! It translates to:

"Bye bye and hushabye,

Can you see the swans fly?

Now half asleep in bed I lie,

Awake with half an eye.

Heyho and welladay,

Over hills and far away

That's where the little children stray

To find the lambs at play."


	4. Aðkominn

Departure from Bergen's airport took longer than Emil had expected. A minor inconvenience it was for his suitcase had shown itself on the conveyor belt long after other bags began to slide in. Once the sly piece of rolling storage showed itself, he hefted the bag off the belt and went right on his way. Emil walked with purpose at a steady pace, the wheels of the suitcase making rhythmic taps on tiling divots of the floor. The slew of people in various congregations around him were nothing more than obstacles on his way to turn in the papers for a rental car.

* * *

Having dealt with the clerk, it put his mind at peace for some offhand reason, and also reminded him of the hunger scratching at his stomach's walls. Emil stared at the terminal exit but glanced at a nearby coffee shop. Without another thought spared, he chose to placate the long drive ahead with a small breakfast.

Lines never bothered Emil. He'd learned patience ages ago, quite literally, especially after shaping and masking a once vibrant temperament. It was also unsurprising that he must wait, as mornings would surely call for people to want to awaken through caffeine. As his turn came, he spoke his order to the cashier simply in English, "Caffè latte and a single cinnamon bun, please." Turning over his credit card and soon reclaiming it along with the requested bun with napkin, he left to wait with other people by the counter. Such an urban environment, this place was, in an airport no less. Though Emil's country was far from the urbanization of his brother's, he still felt a sort of appreciation for these environments. The ambience itself, people chatting nonchalantly, the hum of the coffee machines, the very smell of it wafting in the air and past his nose. Thoughts of such unalloyed pleasures carried Emil through the wait, without a nibble of the bun. Taking his latte with a simple nod of appreciation, he managed to find one spot unoccupied in the crowded shop, parking his luggage next to his seat.

* * *

The satisfying hasty breakfast had long passed, and the time now was for the hours-long drive. Navigating the early morning streets of the city was not much of a task with the few cars on the road. It became all the more desolate outside of the city and up north. A map he had prepared was perched to his right for directions. More so than he would admit, he cursed his brother's fjord-ridden land whilst navigating them on the twisted, capricious highways. However, at least the reward for such tolerance was the view. Indeed, the dramatic contrast between the rivers and sudden snow-capped mountain peaks made the frustrating curves quite worth the long journey Emil pursued. Though watching the road as well, he could not help the awe he felt towards the land that so dwarfed his presence. It reminded him once again of the long-gone past, a sense of inviting nostalgia washing over his thoughts.

After such a time of isolation, Emil still remembered the day he and his then very young puffling companion first met his older brother, bringing the colonists with him on a longboat- and he'd never seen such a thing before. The day he formed the first bits of what would soon become a trustful and platonic loving bond between himself and the Norwegian foreigner. Particularly with the situation, he recalled the time his older brought him to his own land, to which he reacted with such wonder and curiosity. When Emil gave it considerable thought, perhaps that original time of discovery and joy is why he is still captivated by the landscape still.

It seemed an eternity until he finally came to the last leg of the seven-hour drive- the ferry. It navigated Emil and the other car-bound passengers through one of the famed fjords of Norway. He spent most of the time at the edge of the ferry, watching the waves pass below, occasionally feeling the chilling drops of seawater dash his face. Though, he mostly reveled in the fact that he could stand after so many hours of driving, for which Emil was the very definition of thankful. Though, soon enough, he'd have to be condemned to the driver's seat for just a little longer as the ferry approached the shoreline of a small community named Geiranger.

* * *

Only one more twisted road past a few buildings and little tourist sites into the spaced housing community would do it. The narrow road scaled further up the mountain, and after glancing at his map once more, he turned onto an unpaved road. Ahead was another of the quaint homes dotting the open area, a few trees dotting the area around it. Emil pulled the car into a little driving lane just beside the garage, parking and shutting off the engine. As soon as he left the vehicle with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, he outstretched his arms towards the cloudy sky, bending back slightly. After such a long travel, it felt invigorating just to be here at last.

Emil shuffled to the front of the home, examining it instead of moving for the door. It possessed two floors, the outer walls painted with an appealing blue in the shade of the sea. Turning his attention to the ground, a few herb beds were scattered here and there out of the way of the dirt path, each enclosed in a petite fence to keep out the curious wildlife. Emil furrowed his brow, growing a touch upset with himself for stalling. How could he be, dare he say, afraid after coming all this way? He crept closer to the door, hesitating before quickly tapping the doorbell that caused a pleasant ring to sound inside as Emil brought his hands tightly to his side.

It was almost as if he could hear the seconds ticking by until he could hear the footsteps within approaching the door, leading to the climax of its opening by his own brother's hand. It had taken no time at all before Lukas snorted in amusement, raising a brow with a barely perceivable grin.

"Oh, if it isn't Emil! What a pleasant surprise," He boasted, "Come in, I'm sure you could use a seat on the sofa, because last I checked, it isn't exactly a short trip to my home." Such forwardness was to be expected, Emil thought, but his brother was more correct than he thought most likely. Stepping inside, he trudged towards the living room sofa, plopping himself down on it whilst hearing the door close. Like most of his furnishings that gave a cozy atmosphere throughout the house, the sofa's cushions were certainly the epitome of comfortable. If he wasn't in his right mind, Emil would probably curl up and cuddle one of the pillows. Although, only the childish would do such a thing. In the midst of these thoughts, he scarcely noticed Lukas sitting himself down beside him.

"I see you're feeling better. What brings a busy person like yourself here to my humble home?" Lukas teased. Such words brought the scrutinizing eyes of Emil towards him.

"I think it best that we do not confer about that. I've set my business aside to be done later when I find it in my interest to return." Emil replied sharply. Though Lukas did like to tease, he knew the boundaries, and could feel that he already crossed it. Accordingly, he softened his face of amusement.

"Alright. But I'll ask again- what brings you here?" Lukas asked.

"Not business. Not for something I need in material. I seek... answers."

"Answers?" He scoffed. "What would I have answers for?"

"I want to know what's happened."

"You're going to have to be a little more specific."

"To us."


End file.
